Harry Potter Vs The Wizarding World
by kairai-kun
Summary: What if instead of getting Voldemort's parselmouth abilities, he got his mental magic abilities, occlumency and legilimency, on that fateful night. Entrepreneur!Harry
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

In the smallest bedroom, at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter, aged 5, sat on his bed staring at the walls thinking over the events that lead him to where he was today. Harry knew he wasn't normal; he was… different, special even. The things he could do, his powers magical power apparently, were not something common everyday folk could do.

Harry could Read the thoughts of those around him and he had an almost photographic memory. Because of this he had an extraordinary learning curve. Not many children could speak fluently at the age of 2, nor could they read or write at 3, (though the handwriting left much to be desired). Knowing the thoughts of others meant that it was almost impossible for people like his Aunt and Uncle to lie to him. He knew his parents didn't die in a car crash, he remembered how they died! He could remember every moment of his life but there was a particular moment he would probably never forget.

* * *

_Harry was tucked away, fast asleep in his cot when his mother abruptly barged into his room._

"_Not my Harry! He won't take my Harry!" she said, drawing her wand before slashing it across her palm._

_Blood seeped from the freshly made wound, but she ignored it in favour drawing a sigil on Harry's forehead in her blood. The sound of a fight from downstairs could be heard over Lily's low chanting as she waved her wound in violent intricate patterns. By the time she was finished she looked drained and barely had time to register the footsteps coming up behind her._

_Turning her head at the commotion, Lily's eyes widened as she threw herself between Harry and the hooded man that crept slowly through the doorway. "Move," came the hiss from under the hood, "and you will be spared."_

"_No. Not my Harry", shaking her head, "take me instead". Dropping her wand to she would put up no fight. The hooded man indicated for her to move out of the way with his wand but when it became apparent that the woman wouldn't budge or stop pleading, his patience wore out._

_A green light later and nothing stood in his way between him and his prey. "You should be honored", turning his attention to his next victim, "Your mother provided the sacrifice to turn your carcass into my final anchor to this world."_

_Lowering his hood, the reptilian man regarded the now sobbing child with contempt. "To think that a lowly thing like you could ever hope to _vanquish _me is ludicrous." _

_As he chanted to himself, the air in the small bedroom became thick with magic. Levelling his wand at Harry, he ignored the blood smudged on his preys as unimportant._

"_Nothing will stand in my way! I am Lord Voldemort! Purebloods kneel at my feet, my enemies fear to even speak my name! I am invincible! And nothing will stop me from ruling everything! AVADA KEDAV-"_

_

* * *

_

Harry grimaced, even thinking about it still hurt. He lost everything that day: his parents, his uncles Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail, pretty much his whole way of life. Only to be replaced with his new "family". An Aunt and uncle that treated him like an animal, a cousin that bullied him and a filthy bed in the cupboard under the stairs. Any displays of affection were met with disgust, feats of intelligence did not endear him to them and even doing nothing labelled him a "good-for-nothing sloth, like his father". Most children weren't forced to cook and clean for their family at the ripe old age of 4! He had to hide what he knew, the secrets he saw in their minds. He knew he could get them thrown into jail for criminal neglect and child abuse, but wanted to see if he couldn't coerce them to treat like family first.

Every Saturday night the men of Privet Drive would play poker, get drunk and gossiped into the night. Vernon went for two reasons: A. It was the normal thing to do! And if regular normal folk did it then so did the Dursleys! And B. Petunia craved gossip like a fish craved water. Though, after a few beers the details tended to get a bit sketchy, not that Petunia minded she could fill in her own!

This Saturday night was the night Vernon hosted and in the rush to prepare for the evening the Dursleys had forgotten to lock the cupboard door like they usually did each night. Harry crept up behind the laughing men, smoke from their cigars making the air thick.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked cautiously

Vernon, furious that he had forgotten to lock the freaks door and subsequently allowing him out for his friends and neighbours to see, growled back "What?"

Creeping up to whisper into his ear "Dennis has a flush, queen high but Mark has a four of a kind"

"What are you talking about?" Vernon grumbled

"I can tell you who has what hand and who's bluffing!"

For a moment Vernon looked outraged and Harry feared his plan to get into his good graces were shot to hell, before it was replaced with a look of greed. Schooling his face, he turned to his curious guests "Sorry guys the boys had nightmares. You don't mind if he sits on my lap 'til he can go back to sleep?"

"Does this mean we have to watch what we say around the kid?" one grumbled dejectedly.

"Naw" another replied "I can't remember a single minute of my life at his age. He'll be fine"

"The way you drink, I'm surprised you can remember what happen 5 minutes ago. Marty" one joked

"I'm sorry, how many times have locked yourself out of your car, Dennis. Was it 7 or 8 times?" Marty replied. The others laughed at Dennis's embarrassment. And that was the last that Harry was brought up. Seated on his lap, Harry whispered to Vernon when to raise and when to call. He pointed out who was bluffing and who had a higher hand then his and when to fold so as to not look like he was winning too much, too often. He did this for the rest of the night

The next morning Vernon was sing the boys praises "1750 pounds! 1750 pounds in one night because of this boy!" Vernon said as he grabbed Harry into a rough hug much to Harry's embarrassment.

"Vernon, what if what he was doing was you-know-what" Petunia exclaimed, glancing at Dudley who was busy trying to eat his weight in breakfast.

Staving off an argument before it could happen. "Frank crashed his car last week when he was drink driving!" Harry called out from under Vernon's embrace "He's told his wife that he lent his car to a cousin while it's in the shop getting repaired."

"What?" Petunia said, astonished "but Frank can't afford something like that, not after the renovations to his house."

"Its going to land him in a lot of dept but he doesn't want Martha to find out as this isn't the first time he's been caught drink driving. And Cheryl's homemade cookies, the recipe you've been trying to get for ages, are actually store bought!"

"I have to go tell Susan. Wait 'till she finds out" Petunia rushed out of the kitchen to call her friend and neighbour, all thoughts of arguing gone in favour for relaying the juicy gossip she just learnt.

Progress was slow, while winning favours from the Dursleys got him treated better in the short term, Harry was hoping for more long-term commitments from them. And so every Saturday night Vernon would host the poker night as the winner of the last night's game, never winning too much or losing too little. Vernon claimed Harry was his lucky charm, and the guys were hard pressed to argue with the results.

Every day afterwards Petunia would hear the latest scandal, which would send her spending hours on the phone gossiping with her friends. It wasn't too long before Harry was moved to Dudley's second bedroom/storeroom and given his own clothes. They didn't let up on the chores but had stopped shouting at him if he failed to do something perfectly. They even stopped calling him freak! Though "boy" seemed to have stuck.

Staring at the wall opposite the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't help but wonder what his life would be like if anything, if they would have ever let up or force him to call child services. Sighing Harry got up, walked over to the dusty old wardrobe next to the door and looked inside. A couple of shirts, shorts and slacks hung on the rail from the shopping spree that Vernon had treated the family too. Harry had expected to be forced to watch everyone get new things while but when Aunt Petunia had pulled him aside to get sighting that he couldn't get away with looking like a ruffian anymore, he know his labors were bearing fruit.

Crouching down to Harry drew his attention to the trinkets that lined the bottom of the closet. Second hand books of various genres, an incomplete encyclopaedia set and even a dictionary, were just some of the things the Dursleys had let him scavenge from used book store. Some of the lesser damaged toys of Dudleys including dinosaurs and robots and cars. But it was the book at the very back of the closet that was Harry's most treasured possession yet. A photo album that he had raided from the attic showed pictures of his mother when she was a child.

Flicking through the album Harry couldn't help but sigh.

"I wish you were here Mum", his eyes finally resting on a photo of his Mum and Aunt as young girls, and a black haired boy. Harry's last thoughts before dozing of were "_I wonder who that boy is?_"

* * *

A/N: This is my first fic, please review. I can't close plot holes if no one points them out to me. Fair chance that there isnt going to be any pairings but if not maybe a H/H or a H/L. A lot of this has been inspired by other fics so don't be surprised if you see something familiar.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Time skip: 3 years

Lazily trudging his way to the Surrey Council Library, Harry mused of the consequences of his actions that particular Saturday night. It wasn't long before Vernon's poker buddies became suspicious of his winning streak. Forced to throw a game, and because it would look suspicious if Vernon took Harry to every poker night, Vernon had to wait until he won a game naturally before he could host another night and thus use Harry to cheat. Even then he would sometimes throw a game or at best hold a winning of only three or four games.

But that didn't particularly bother Vernon as he found other (admittedly brilliant) uses for Harry's 'gifts'. During business meetings or deals, Vernon would bring along Harry to 'play in the corner' when he could get away with it. Using the information Harry would slip him, Vernon would swing the deals in his favour by asking the right questions or bartering the prices to the levels he knew they would accept. With so many successful deals under his belt, Vernon soon found himself promoted, though it didn't hurt that everyone thought him to be a family man.

Petunia found that Harry didn't need to go to poker nights to get the latest Goss. A simple walk in the park proved to work just as easily, and more frequently, then staying up all Saturday night.

His entrance into the primary school lead to one of the more important discoveries of Harry's young life, when he tried to read his teacher too deeply.

* * *

_Harry stared into Ms Kelly's eyes, hoping to __read the answers to the test that was in front of him. In hindsight, he probably should have paid attention to the story his teacher had read to the class, but he honestly hadn't thought they would be quizzed on it. Putting more focus into what he was doing, Harry felt a sort of falling sensation before a blink of his eyes lead to a change in scenery. _

"_What the?" Harry said, taking in all the changes in his environment. The grass was dull and gray, and stretched only a small distance before being consumed by a thick silvery mist. The silvery mist enveloped around him, casually dancing and swirling in irregular patterns. "Oh, what now? All I wanted was the answers to the damn test."_

_No sooner had he finished speaking, when a tendril of the haze above him shot out towards him, startling him, before stoping and curling into a shapeless blob._

_Warily approaching the shapeless mass, Harry saw the mist flicker into images of a first person view of someone writing and could faintly hear them speaking._

"_Who came to Mrs Jenkins dinner? Uncle John, Aunty Sam and Grandpa Richard… Why was Aunty Sam angry with Uncle John? Because Uncle John was a loud and messy eater…"_

"_These are the answers to the test," Harry said as realisation dawned on him, "But that must mean I'm inside … Ms Kelly's head" Harry glanced around again at rolling haze as if expecting something to jump out and accuse him of trespassing._

_Shaking himself, Harry regarded the memories before him. The shapeless mass continued to play out the scene from Ms Kelly's point of view. Reaching out to the flickering images, wondering what memories feeling._

_Just as sudden as when the mass first shot out, a tendril extended out of the memories, darted up and around Harry's arm, before ploughing itself into Harry's temple. Staggering about, images of reading the book and writing the questions flashed pasted Harry's eyes._

"_Oh… kay", Harry said as his eyes re-adjusted them selves. "What just happened?"_

_Frowning, Harry could clearly recall the answers to the test as if he had sat down and wrote them out himself._

"_Did I just copy Ms Kelly's memory?" Harry asked no one in particular. "Wicked."_

_Looking around him at the silvery mist that still spun around him, Harry wondered, "Now how do I get out of here?" finding the distinct lack of exits to be a little disconcerting._

_A blink of his eyes and a feeling of being pulled out, and Harry was sitting back in his classroom with Ms Kelly smiling down on him. "Back to your test Harry."_

"_Yes, sorry Ms Kelly" Harry replied before attacking the exam with new vigour.

* * *

_

Harry experimented with his new ability to copy memories and to go deep into people's minds, finding that everyone's mental plain to be slightly different. Some mindscapes were bigger then others while some more lively material to make up the floors of the mental plain then dead gray grass. Harry found that some were more complex then just open grassy fields, coming across trees and lakes every now and again.

Harry's next discovery came soon after, during another of Vernon's meetings, when he tried to read his own mind via a mirror. Feeling the falling sensation Harry had grown accustomed to when slipping too deep into minds, Harry blinked to find himself in another field.

* * *

_A silver mist that Harry knew to be memories covered the ground, random images of such as Vernon learning to drive__, or Petunia playing with Lily and the boy, Harry knew now to be Severus Snape, flicked past. _

"_These were the memories I've copied," Harry deducted._

_Expecting the usual silvery haze looming above him, Harry was surprised when he found cloud littered sky. _

"_Maybe because I don't have as many memories as an adult, the sky isn't as cloudy as it could be?" Harry pondered._

_Walking around, Harry couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at how plain his mind turned out to be. _

"_Would have liked to have a tree, maybe a lake. A shrub least."_

_Crouching down, Harry brushed aside the silver mist that cloaked the ground, revealing lush green grass. "Well at least there's that. Its something I guess."_

_Frowning Harry gave his mindscape another once over. _

"_This is my mind so maybe I can manipulate it. This is my turf after all."_

_Staring at the tuff of ground before him Harry concentrated. Sudden forced jump back, Harry watched as a great oak tree shot out of the ground in front of him, withering and contorting before finally taking shape, standing proudly over Harry._

"_Wicked" Harry breathed out._

_Grinning__, Harry experimented with different shapes; chairs, lakes, even fridges. If Harry could imagine it he could make it. Harry found, however that it strained on him to imagine too many objects at once, and to hold all of there forms at once._

_Keeping it simple Harry dissolved everything but the great oak, before conjuring up a beach chair. Positioning himself under the oak Harry looked up at the 'clouds' from his chair, watching the various scenes flicker past on the clouds. After awhile Harry started to notice a trend in the images he saw in the clouds._

"_Could they be… grouped by feeling?" Looking up at what Harry thought to be the 'Jealous' cloud. Images of lavish Dudley's birthdays and of various children getting praised by their parents._

"_And that would be the happy cloud then?" Harry looked up wistfully at the memories of his short time with his parents and uncles. His real family._

_Shaking his head "I better get out of here, I've spent too long." Harry said before ejecting himself.

* * *

_

Vernon predictably, didn't notice any change with Harry while he was in his mind, but that was largely due to the fact that he had only been gone for a minute or so, not the hour Harry had believed. Time in his mindscape went faster then out in the real would apparently.

Over the next months Harry experimented and explored the boundaries of his powers. Harry learned that not only could he conjure up objects in his mind, but he could do so in other people's minds as well.

This meant that he could copy large portions of memory place them in a chest and store it in his mind for later viewing. Not only that but Harry found he could manipulate that form his memories could take, turning them into documents that he could relive when he read them. This came in handy when he didn't want to see the memories related to 'Fear', 'Sadness' or 'Anger'. Organising them into filing cabinets meant they were easier to find and view. Organising the memories, Harry found, made thinking clearer. While it didn't make him smarter per se, it certainly made him think quicker and more easily.

Due to these discoveries, Harry couldn't help but look forward to Vernon's business deals. Slipping into the minds of business men, copying masses of anything interesting, snoop for anything Vernon might use to turn the tides in his favour, feeding Vernon the info before retreating into his own mind to view, label, organise and store. Anything from the stock market to table manners were copied and absorbed.

However while there was with out a doubt benefits from, there were also side affects. The most obvious was that just because you now how does not mean you could do it, as Harry found after absorbing a martial arts style. What was meant to be a form of self-defence, ended up looking like a drunk trying to dance. Harry considered himself lucky he had the forethought to practice before trying to put it to the test against a real opponent.

Not only this but learning a language took hours of work, while faster then the normal way, Harry couldn't help but be a little annoyed at his progress as he tried to pronounce some of the French words correctly.

The most potentially dangerous side affect Harry found though was the semi-loss of identity he felt as he absorbed more and more memories, feeling emotions and responding to names that weren't his. This seriously derailed Harry's work before he found a way to extract the information directly out of the memories and how to delete unwanted or no longer useful memories, some weeks of experimenting later.

The information was turned into books to be stored in shelves, while the memories that Harry wanted to keep were reorganised into photo albums. His mindscape was beginning to change from the simple oak and beach chair arrangement he started with. With constant practice, Harry was able to conjure and hold more and more complex structures.

Three years later and Harry was now the proud owner of a mental representation of his home at Godric's Hollow, or what he had seen at least. Rooms like the kitchen and the Masters study had to be designed from scratch and the library was bigger then it was in reality, but Harry liked what ended up with.

The final problem Harry encountered was the many holes in the information he received. Small things here and there, that was touched on in the memories but never developed or further explained but left Harry a little confused. This became a problem when the memories he copied came from people he would only meet once or twice. To combat this, Harry would go to the Surrey Council Library to research both the general and specific information he had missed out on in the memories. Usually he would go in with only a question or two in mind; however Harry's inquisitive nature made it so that if he came across something that peaked interested or confused him, he would stop and research it before coming back to his answer his original question. This lead Harry on massive tangents which usually only ended when he forced himself to get back to the original topic at hand.

Harry also found that going to the library helped when he wanted to get a second opinion. Not all the information he got was cut and dry as people's perceptions and personalities tended to colour what Harry plucked from their heads.

Lately however, Harry could mostly be found in the sci-fi and fantasy sections of the library, searching for things to replicate in his mental plane. So caught up in his plans to recreate the some of the battle scenes from the Lord of the Rings, Harry forgot to pay attention to where he was going.

"Oof"

"Oh, terribly sorry 'bout that, I have watched were I was going."

"No, its ok. I was off in another world." Harry said as he took the offered hand. Looking at the man he had ran into, Harry couldn't help but stare.

The man in question wasn't particularly tall, on the contrary he was only a couple of inches taller than Harry, no the thing that caught Harry's attention was what the strange man was wearing. The man looked like he had stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel, he wore a dark overcoat with a red scarf wrapped around his neck and on top of his head adorned a bright purple top hat.

Dedalus Diggle continued oblivious to Harry's staring, "I hope you're ok, I don't usually – Bless me, it can't be."

For the next minute, Diggle and Harry engaged in an awkward spontaneous staring match before Harry shook himself out of his stupor.

"I'm sorry, what was that you were saying?"

"Are you- Are you per chance Harry Potter?"

Confused Harry replied, "Um… yes? Do I know you?"

Bursting into a flurry of motion, Diggle captured Harry's hand, vigorously shaking it, all the while babbling "Mr Potter, my names Dedalus Diggle. It's an honour, a real honour. You're a hero, Mr Potter"

"Wha-?" a dazed Harry replied

"Who would have thought that when I woke up this morning that I would meet THE Harry Potter!", Diggle exclaimed to himself, still trying to shake Harry's hand out of his arm socket "I have to tell Tom. No, I have to tell everyone!"

Dashing off, Diggle left a shell shocked Harry staring at his now limp hand. Shaking off his stupor (again), Harry's curiosity got the better of him as he strained to read the surface thoughts from Diggles retreating form.

'_Imagine… __Boy-Who-Lived! ... Leaky Cauldron… Tom hears about this.'_

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Harry muttered to himself. _'He couldn't mean…'_

Harry had very few memories pre-Halloween where he left the safety of his home at Godric's Hollow. Of those rare incidents, a lot of them involved going to the Leaky Cauldron in some fashion, be it as a meeting place or as a way to get into Diagon Alley to re-supply.

'_A wizard…,' _Harry thought before breaking into a dead sprint. _'A chance to reconnect with my world'_

Rounding the corner, Harry was once again shocked for the umpteenth time in the last half-hour. Resting at the curb of the road was a triple-decker purple bus, not only this but it seemed nobody except he could see the odd sight.

Pushing aside his astonishment, Harry run up to the bus panting "Wait… please wait!"

Stopping to catch his breath, he looked up at the curious conductor staring down at him. "Can you… can you tell me how to get to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Why sure the Knight Bus can take you there in a jiffy", replied the conductor nonchalantly, picking at his ears. "Just hold your wand up and wait."

Wondering how it couldn't occur to the scruffy man that an eight year old would have a wand. "And what if I don't have a wand?"

Shrugging, the conductor replied, "Floo or apparate I guess."

Getting annoyed at the unhelpful answers, "Can you tell me what street the Leaky Cauldron is on then?"

Scratching his head, the conductor called back "Hey, Ernie, what's the address for the Leaky Cauldron?"

"You just shout 'Leaky Cauldron"" came the reply.

"No, you old coot. Not the Floo address, the street address."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't want to, some kid does. Now answer the ruddy question!"

"23 Charring Cross Road"

Turning back to Harry, "Yeah the Leaky Cauldron is at 23 Charring Cross Road. You can't miss it; it's the only one the muggles ignore."

Thanking the obtuse man, Harry turned away deep in thought, and as such missed the conversation behind him.

"Who was that?"

"How should I know, he was just some random kid."

"That was Harry Potter, that was."

"What? You're kidding me? 'The Boy-Who-Lived', Harry Potter? That was Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, that's what I said"

"Harry Potter?" "Let me see" "You sure?"

Rounding the corner, Harry missed the crowd of people peeping out the windows of the Knight Bus.

It was two days later when Harry figured out which buses would get him into London and close to the pub. Grabbing an old backpack and a couple of hundred pounds he had nicked from one of Vernon's poker nights when everyone got blind drunk, Harry stood in the front doorway.

Calling back, "Aunt Petunia I'm going to the library now"

"Have you done your chores?" drifted the reply from the kitchen

"Yeah, of course."

"Even the weeding?"

"I did that yesterday"

"Well ok then. Be back before sun down."

Sitting in the bus, Harry mused on his relationship with his family. They were no longer so hostile, nor did they treat him as just a thing anymore. That being said, there was no real love between his relatives and him. His aunt was largely indifferent to his existence, reasoning that if he was to be forced on her and her family then he could be put to work doing odd jobs around the house.

Vernon was also indifferent when Harry's abilities weren't needed. When they could be of use, he was almost giddy with anticipation. Harry often wondered if the reason he never asked how he knew what he did was due to him not caring or not wanting to know, or perhaps a bit of both.

It annoyed both of the parents that Harry was obviously got better marks then their Dudley, but couldn't do anything about it short of getting Dudley a tutor as forcing Harry to dumb down his work would be met with automatic suspicion. Attention that the Dursleys neither wanted nor needed. Harry had no doubt the kind of scene the Dursleys would make if they realised how much of Dudleys 'above-average' marks were due to his doing.

Dudley himself seemed to have no opinion of Harry himself. Instead reacting how everyone around him expected him to act to him. Harry kind of thought that was sad that he went along with the mob so much, rather than carve a personality he could call his own.

Sighing, Harry let his mind drift to the Leaky Cauldron and what he might find in the wizarding world. During the sporadic visits to the alley had show Harry the extent a war can have on a community and economy. Stores were boarded up or just barely keeping afloat, everyone eyeing each other up determining if they were a threat.

Harry hoped that things had gotten better in time between him losing his parents and now. Harry didn't think he wanted to be part of a world that was all doom, gloom and war, regardless of his parents and his ties to it.

Licking his lips, Harry got of the bus to make the short trek down to 23 Charring Cross Road. What would he do when got there? Just wonder around the alley taking in the sights? Did he dare copy anyone's memories, as wizards would they know what he was doing? If he copied to many memories from normal people they world get a headache, which they would just explain away. Would the wizards recognise the feeling for what it was, a sign that someone was invading their mind?

These questions and more plagued Harry as he slow hiked his way the to wizarding pub. Harry's confidence wanned more and more as he got closer to the Leaky Cauldron. Fidgeting in front of the door, Harry forced himself not to shy away but at the same time couldn't bring himself to move forward.

Just as Harry was about to give up and call it a day, he was forced to jump out of the way as a crowd exited out of the door he had just a minute ago procrastinated in front of. Gathering up his confidence, Harry leapt through the doorway before he could start to second-guess himself again.

Physically speaking the pub look just like what he remembered of it: an old looking tavern, if a bit dark and shabby, but that was where the similarities stopped. No longer was the pub occupied by one or two patrons who gloomily sat buy themselves nursing their drinks. Now the place was packed to the brim with people milling about, moving through the back alley way or stepping out of the fireplace. The atmosphere also had changed, gone was the gloomy shroud that hung over everyone to be replaced with a cheery welcoming tone.

Towards the back a group were chatting about the latest gossip, at a table off to the side was a bearded man smoking a pipe and reading a moving newspaper, and the rewash even wearing a strange orange and purple cardigan hunched over a book, a cup of hot cacao which had a spoon magically stirring itself in front of him. Behind the counter stood a toothless, balding man, casually drying a pint glass. Pushing himself against the wall, took a calming breath while eying the bartender.

'_Time to find out if wizards can detect people in their heads' _Harry thought before cautiously entering the balding mans mind.

Glancing around Harry was impressed to find himself in a rather spartan bedroom. Ontop of simple mahogany desk rested a rusty oil lamp and off in rest an old worn mattress. Aside from a single window and door stood out in the otherwise bare room. Outside the window, Harry spied the telltale silver wispy mist that represented someone's memories.

Opening up the window Harry contemplated how much and what memories to copy. "Too many and I'll probably get detected but if I get detected anyway then it would be better to get as much as I can" Harry mused. Figuring it was better to play it safe, Harry just got some generalised memories on Diagon Alley and economic structure of the wizarding world before pulling out.

Darting behind a group of witches who had just drifted through from the fireplace, Harry spied on the barkeep to see his reaction. Relieved by the man's lack of response, Harry retreated to a secluded booth to go over what he'd found.

Extracting information from a memory was a long and tedious process. To get the information, Harry had to separate the emotion and personality from the memory leaving only the cold analytical part. In order to do this however, Harry was forced to view the emotionless portion of the memory at a sluggish pace, which was irritating at best.

Exercising patience, Harry made it through most of the Diagon Alley memories and had moved on to collection on the economy. The alley, it seems, had bounced back from the turmoil of the war to a level of prosperity rivalling that felt before its fall into disrepair. Shops that were previously boarded up had been reopened and renovated. The ministry had breathed new life into the alley through a series of tax cuts and beatification projects.

The most prominent (and seemingly only) wizarding bank was run by the goblin nation as a recreational outlet for the predominantly warlike race. The wizards had there own currency: gold galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts. Seventeen sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle.

Extracting the last out of the economy memories, Harry was surprised when the memory started to tremor. Harry frowned "What's going on out there?"

Pulling out of his head, Harry was being shaken wake by the bartender, Tom as he had learned from the memories.

"Sorry, kid you can't sleep down here." Tom said standing over him.

"That's ok I'll just be leaving anyway." Brushing the hair from eyes.

Taking a step back, Tom stared wide eyed at Harry "Merlin, you're Harry Potter"

The chattering in the pub died down as everyone turned to look at whom Tom was talking to.

"Ah… yeah?" was all Harry could get before he was mobbed by nearly every there.

"Mr Potter, its an honour"

"Let me shake your hand sir!"

"See I told you I saw him yesterday. Didn't I tell you?"

Dazed and confused as the crowd manhandled him, Harry tried to Read what was going one. Turns out the night Voldemort attacked was also his last. Harry was credited with surviving the Killing curse and reflecting it back at him, effectively destroying him and ending a war. They even went so far as to call him the Boy-Who-Lived, praising him as the next coming of Merlin.

Tom, seeing that Harry wasn't particularly enjoying this session of 'try-and-grab-Harry', went to break up the mob.

"Ok, ok that's enough. I'm sure Mr Potter has many important things to do today other than be swamped by everyone." Pulling Harry aside, Tom addressed him "Sorry 'bout that Mr. Potter, didn't mean to make a scene."

"No its ok. I just didn't expect to be jumped on my way to Diagon Alley."

Looking abashed, Tom replied "Yes, well let me make it up to you. Your grandfather Charles Potter helped me land this place some 30 odd years ago. In return all he asked for was a private booth and a free meal whenever we popped by. I can think of no better way to honour both him and you, than to offer the same courtesy."

"You knew my grandfather?" Harry asked curiously

"He was a good friend of the families. Cheerful bloke, I could tell you about him sometime if you'd like?"

"Yes I think id like that" Harry smiled up at him.

Nodding, Tom bid him farewell before going off back behind the counter.

Trudging back through the backdoor to the Alley, Harry wandered from shop to shop, browsing at anything that caught his attention. There were shops for cauldrons and shops for owls. An apothecary shop sold many weird looking and strange spelling goods and the Magical Menagerie held many wonderful exotic animals. Harry must of spent at least half an hour just looking at all the curious creatures. There were enormous purple toads, gigantic tortoises with jewel-encrusted shells, and even a white rabbit that constantly changed into a top hat and back.

There were only a small handful of shops that allowed their goods to be bought with muggle currency. He could always exchange it at the bank for wizard money, but Harry wanted to find out more about the goblins before approaching them. It wouldn't do to accidently offend the ones who could easily make your life difficult.

Nodding to himself, Harry decided to buy some books on goblin and wizarding culture from Flourish and Blotts. Entering the store, Harry wandered around the studying the various titles on the shelves. After browsing for a bit, Harry decided on getting The Goblin Nation: For Victory and Profit, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century and An Investigation In Wizarding Britain Society. Carrying his load to the counter, a book titled Magic of the Mind: an Overview of Occlumency and Legilimency caught his eye. Curious Harry reached for the book and read the first page:

"_Occlumency and Legilimency can be broadly defined as the magic performed on one's own mind and the magicks performed on someone else's mind respectively. A master legilimens may enter their target's mind undetected, read their thoughts, view their memories and create new ones. A master legilimens may even complete possess their victims body's and control their thoughts. A more in depth analysis of legilimency will be covered in chapters 2 and 3. Occlumency is predominantly used as a counter measure to legilimency. A master occlumens will conjure up mental barriers and obstacles to fend off a legilimency attack, and can organize their mind so that their thought process is quicker and clearer. Master Occlumens are known for the eidetic memory. Occlumency is covered in chapters 4 and 5."_

'_So Reading is legilimency, ay?' _Harry mused. Adding the book to his growing pile before making his way to the counter.

"Do you still take muggle money? How much for this?" Harry asked placing the books on the counter.

Staring at his forehead Mr Flourish replied "Mr Potter is that you? I was wondering when I'd find you in my shop", smiling down at him "You probably get this a lot but I'd like to personally thank you for us all that night, and to apologise for your loss. It mustn't be easy growing up without knowing your parents."

Harry fidgeted under Mr Flourish's gaze, unused to being addressed in such a warm and concerned manner. "Thank you sir. It means a lot to me… So, do you still take muggle money?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Ah, yes we do. You wouldn't believe the amount of muggle-borns who come here before going to the bank! It's just easier to cater to them then to turn them away."

"Yeah, right", Harry replied sheepishly "So how much for all of this?"

Ringing up the price on the cash register, "I can exchange your money for wizard currency if you'd like," Mr Flourish said idly.

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother" Harry said handing over his money for his purchases and to get it exchanged.

"Not at all," he insisted. "I'd be happy too"

"Mr Flourish, you wouldn't happen to know someone who speaks goblin language do you?" Harry asked curiously, hoping copy another skill.

"Ah, well lets see, Gobbledegook is a rare skill among wizards. But I know that Mr Barty Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, knows over 200 languages, Gobbledegook being among them."

"How does someone get to learn over 200 languages!" _'Did copy the language directly out of someone's mind like I do?'_ Harry thought.

"Well, there are these things called language lozenges, you see? Just plop one in your mouth; suck and you'll just learn the language. You can get them at that travel shop, Terrortours. They're bit dear, magical languages more so, but that's probably because they're more complicated then regular languages." Tom replied.

Remembering the Travel centre that boasted its 'adventurous' tours. '_Who would honestly _pay _to go looking for trouble? Really a "Zombie Trail" do you want to die? Though I must admit the chance to see the Bermuda Triangle and all those shipwrecks sounds pretty cool.'_

"Will this be enough to buy a Gobbledegook lozenge?" Indicating to the large pile of Galleons Mr Flourish had just handed him.

"Oh, yes. I'd say it would be enough to buy a several lozenges. But I wouldn't advise spending all your money at one place."

Thanking the man, Harry put the books in his backpack, placing the galleons in a side pocket for easier transport.

Entering the magical travel stop, Harry made a beeline to the section that held the language lozenges. Each pastille was G5 and up, with the Gobbledegook one being G7. Frowning, Harry decided to heed Mr Flourish's advice and stuck to just the one Gobbledegook lozenge.

After paying and placing the pastille in his mouth, Harry made his way home. He had some books to read and a language to learn!

* * *

A/N: The language lozenges come from Partial Kissed Hero by Perfect Lionheart.

What, no reviews? That makes me sad. Next chapter is on its way. Kudos to Creative Touch, my beta, who helped me with my 'grammatical nightmare' of a chapter.


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